What Was Left Behind
by Mostlypoptarts
Summary: When the Wizarding World found Harry Potter, it was a much darker, more desperate place than it had ever been. With a fully risen Voldemort and a group of dangerous Hogwarts dropouts both looking for him, Harry is in a risky position, and becomes a pivotal part of a war he didn't even know was going on.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was a perfectly ordinary boy, living a perfectly normal, if not boring, life. Or, at least he tried to convince himself of that. When it came down to it, it was never that simple. He was an orphan, firstly, who lived with his aunt and uncle since infancy, since his parents had died in an accident that he was only informed of in quick, indifferent terms. He never quite fit in with his aunt and uncle; he stuck out like a sore thumb against the perfect blond family that had more than enough bulk to go around. Harry was gaunt and lanky, even from a young age, and his dark hair was so unmanageable that his Aunt Petunia stopped trying to fix it many years ago.

And it wasn't just his looks that made Harry rather remarkable. Strange happenings seemed to follow him, from infancy to childhood to his teenage years. Things like this only occurred when emotions ran high, though- lights would short out when he was angry, pipes would spontaneously burst, and the occasional fire was even started. For his aunt and uncle, it was easy to pass things off as simply coincidence but Harry knew they occurred far too often for it to really be a coincidence.

So no, Harry was not an ordinary boy. And after all, not many sixteen year old boys had run away from home, living off wages from a downtown London coffee shop. But, he had.

* * *

Tube stations, Harry decided, were the antithesis of all things good and pure in the world, and the bane of his existence to boot. He just _had_ to get out of work late and catch the 11:05, didn't he? The whole place gave him the creeps, with almost no one around but maybe a few bums and the occasional other passenger milling around. The middle of the night was bad enough, but throw in a creepy urban atmosphere and you've got the perfect recipe to make anyone jumpy.

Harry looked around and shifted awkwardly, rather antsy all alone in the station. His gaze caught on another passenger a few yards away, though he could've sworn the girl wasn't there just a minute ago. His eyes must've been playing tricks on him though, otherwise he would've heard her walking onto the platform. In the flickering electric light, it was hard to get a good look at her, but curiosity got the better of him, and Harry casually took a step closer. She was decidedly pretty, not exactly gorgeous, but she reminded Harry of the types of girls that were always very popular in school. Long red hair trickled down her back in messy, disheveled waves, and thick, dark lashes framed her brown eyes. Although she wore a deep frown, Harry imagined that she must've been very pretty when she smiled.

"Can I help you?" Her voice startled Harry, as if he didn't realize she was speaking until a moment later. The red haired girl looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, and her face remained a mask of indifference. Realizing he had been staring, Harry looked away in embarrassment, hands shoved in his pockets.

He spoke quickly. "No, no sorry. Didn't mean to stare." He cleared his throat and looked in the opposite direction. "What's your name?"

"Ginny." She answered so quickly and quietly that Harry almost didn't realize she had replied.

Until now, Harry hadn't realized just how fascinating the dirty brick walls of a tube station could be. "My name? It's, uh, Harry."

"Nice to meet you, uh, Harry," Ginny replied in a way that should've been funny, but her voice betrayed no humor.

"Yeah," was all Harry could think to say. He scrambled for something to say, not wanting to leave the conversation there. "Oh, it's nice to meet you too."

"Mhmm. Well anyway, how'd you get that scar?" Ginny asked, and he assumed she was referring to the lightning shaped fissure on his forehead. It was a question he was asked often, but every time it caught Harry off guard.

"This?" He asked, pointing to his forehead. Ginny nodded. "Oh, I got it in a car crash. I was only a baby, but it stuck around." The very same car crash that had killed his parents, but that didn't seem relevant to mention.

Ginny looked beyond Harry for a second, and turned back to him. She opened her mouth to say something, but before any sound could come out, a cold, sweaty hand clamped itself over Harry's mouth. His vision started swimming, and he was out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry finally came to, he was vaguely aware of the faint chatter of voices around him, though for the life of him he couldn't tell what gender they were, or even where they were coming from. At first he was afraid to open his eyes, for fear that he wasn't, in fact, dreaming, and that he really had been kidnapped. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he finally opened them, and he was not pleased with what he saw. Ginny was there, for one, and she wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes. She was surrounded by two other girls and three guys of varying heights, though they looked to be all around the same age- Harry's age, that was.

"You're Harry? Harry Potter?" A slightly pudgy boy with a round, eager face asked. From his chair- was he tied up?- Harry nodded. His face brightened in a sweet, nearly childlike manner, and a strange sense of relief washed over Harry.

A blonde boy with tight and rigid features stepped forward from where he had previously been half hidden in shadows. "Well who else would it be?" He asked sharply, his voice crisp and cold. "How many other seventeen year old boys named Harry have a lightning scar?" The other boy flinched instinctively, going to stand behind Ginny. The blonde stepped forward some more, and extended his hand to Harry. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

Already, Harry could tell that he didn't like Draco, but it probably wasn't good to get on the bad side of his captors. He found he actually could move his arms to shake Draco's hand; he must've simply been frozen in fear. The cat apparently had his tongue too, and he was left gaping at the group in front of him like a deer in headlights for an excruciatingly long amount of time. A little too late, Harry voiced his concerns. "What do you want with me?"

"That," Ginny drawled, "Is a very long story. Might want to pull up a chair." She laughed, but it seemed artificial and hollow, like she wasn't accustomed to laughing. "Luna, why don't you make us some tea." Her gentler tone surprised Harry, as if he hadn't realized she was capable of being kind.

The girl apparently called Luna managed to both stick out like a sore thumb and blend into the background, all at once. She was as skinny as a branch and Harry couldn't tell if her dark blonde hair was naturally colored or just dirty. Wide blue eyes watched him with near childlike curiosity, and she looked a bit younger than the rest of the crowd. Despite this, Ginny seemed to treat her like an equal, and that was more than what could be said about anyone else. Luna nodded and disappeared out of a door behind Harry's chair.

Ginny grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and sat backwards in it. There were cobwebs between the rungs and it looked like it had been sanded one too many times, but it made no visible difference to her. "So. What do you want to know?"

"Why am I here?" Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. Would he just be dismissed again? Surely not. They needed him for something, and it definitely wasn't just for kicks- or ransom money, hopefully.

"I'll get to that." Of course. "You want to know where you are first, right? Order of the Phoenix Headquarters."

"What's the-" Harry was cut off by Ginny holding up a hand, most certainly not wanting to cross her. Thankfully, the other girl in the room stepped up before Ginny could interject.

"I'll handle this, Gin," she said, with a sense of both familiarity and authority that suggested she was both the leader and the 'mom' friend. "Sorry about that, Ginny can be… intimidating. She's had a rough few years," she said, low and confidential.

"I heard that," Ginny muttered, getting up and presumably following Luna out the door.

The other girl merely shook her head, bouncy, curly hair going everywhere. "I'm sorry about this. Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Hermione…" Harry tried out her name. It sounded weird to him, but maybe it was one of those posh names that tried to be 'on trend'. "Can you tell me where I am?" Despite his best intentions, he knew he sounded nervous and scared.

"Well Ginny was correct, you're in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Central London, Islington. Now, does-"

"And what's the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked, mildly exasperated. He was getting answers, sure, but he should've been more specific. Helpful answers, that's what he needed.

Hermione simply frowned, and from the look in her eyes, she was just as tired as he was. "It will be all be explained in due time. Now, are you going to be patient and listen, or barge in with questions every five seconds?"

Wincing, Harry realized that Hermione was not one to trifle with. Why these teenagers were out to get him was beyond his wildest dreams, but it seemed like they needed him for something. As for what that was, he didn't know, but this wasn't just for kicks. They needed _him_ , but he was just Harry, what was so special about him? Far too late, he nodded, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He was scared, that he knew, and this not-so-friendly crew wasn't helping.

"Thank you." Hermione directed a sharp look at Harry, and he just slunk further down into his seat. "So, tell me Harry, what do you know about your parents?"

Harry felt a metaphorical punch to the gut upon hearing that question. "Not much, just-" he frowned, and tore his gaze away from Hermione. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you know about them," replied Hermione.

"My aunt and uncle never told me much, but I know they died."

"How?"

Harry sighed. "It was a car crash. Nearly killed me too, but I got away with just a scar. Aunt Petunia sai-"

"That's wrong," Hermione interjected, with complete seriousness.

"What?" Harry asked, as if he hadn't heard her right. That was wrong? "Well, how would you know how my parents died?"

"They were killed, everybody knows that. Except you, of course, it's a wonder no one got to you sooner." Harry gaped at Hermione, speechless. His parents were murdered? By who? And why? Questions swam around his brain until it felt like he couldn't think straight.

"What do you mean they were murdered?" He spluttered, looking around the room at the other boys. Draco looked beyond disinterested, the pudgy one watched Harry with a sort of fascination, and the other one- a redhead with a striking resemblance to Ginny- looked more concerned with the back of Hermione's head.

"Exactly what I said. I'll tell you more in the morning- it's late and you'll need as much rest as you can get," Hermione said crisply. "Ron? Take Harry upstairs, show him his room."

The redhead, Ron, stepped forward, and waited for Harry to get up. Once standing, Harry could see that Ron had quite a few inches of height on Harry, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. Ron lead him out to the hallway, towards a set of stairs that spiraled around, up the center of the building.

Halfway up the stairs, Ron finally spoke up. He was behind Harry, trailing him to make sure he wasn't going to make a break for it. "Well, mate, it's nice to meet you," he said amicably, and it caught Harry off guard. He was the first person to be genuinely nice to Harry since arriving here- in a long time, actually. "I'm Ron Weasley, if you didn't hear. Ginny's my little sister," he announced, to which Harry just nodded.

"That's great, but listen- could you tell me what's going on? Just something so I know I'm not going crazy?" Harry pressed, turning on the landing to look at Ron. So far, Ron seemed like the only sane person around, and Harry just wanted answers.

Much to Harry's disappointment, Ron shook his head. "Sorry, mate. Anything I could tell you would only make things work. Hermione is right, you'll learn as you go along."

Harry resigned himself to this, and simply trudged up the steps in silence. Once they reached the top, Ron led the way down the corridor, passing two rooms with closed doors, which Harry assumed belonged to the others in this party. Ron showed Harry his room, a bland, basic room with two twin beds, and dusty old dresser, and faded green wallpaper that was peeling in the top corners.

"Well, here's your room," Ron told him, not loud, but enough to have made Harry jump a bit. "You'll be rooming with me, but don't get too used to it. We'll probably be leaving tomorrow, or if not the day after." Harry was totally satisfied with that, but nodded and made his way over to the one bed that hadn't been turned down. He had no pajamas, just the clothes he'd worn to work that day, though he didn't feel comfortable asking Ron, or anyone else, if they'd thought to bring him some spare pajamas. Probably not, anyway.

The blankets were old and stiff, and probably nibbled on by moths in the past, though it was no worse than Harry's cupboard under the stairs from his childhood. Curling up under them and folding in on himself for warmth, Harry attempted to ignore the musty smell coming from his pillow. Eventually, he drifted off into a quiet sleep, not peaceful or nice by any means, but enough to stay asleep until dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was a whirlwind of activity. Harry had been woken up early by Ron, and by the lack of light filtering in through the musty old curtains, he assumed that it was before sunrise. There was apparently no such thing as a lazy morning where Hermione was concerned, as the minute Harry was even remotely conscious, he was being dragged out of bed and sent downstairs for 'breakfast'.

Breakfast was meager, even for Harry's underfed, broke standards. Hermione had made toast, though Harry didn't see a toaster, and there was unfortunately no jam or butter in sight- not that Harry wanted to dig around in a kitchen that probably hadn't been used in the last ten years. He ate in silence, accompanied only by various members of the party popping in and out to grab their slice of toast, before once again leaving him alone with his thoughts. Not wanted to be subjected to such torture again, Harry decided to focus on his surroundings rather than his frankly upsetting thoughts.

The kitchen was covered in all manners of dirt, and likely mold, and only a bit of countertop had been cleared off, likely by Hermione so she could cook whatever semblance of a meal they could muster. Cobwebs filled the corners, and china sat in dusty cupboards, some pieces broken. The wallpaper was again peeling and fading, and even the doorframe had more than its fair share of dings and scratches.

As Harry's eyes traveled around the doorframe, he realized it was nearly a straight shot to the front door. At least what he assumed was the front door, what with the hat rack and mail slot. Nervously, his eyes darted around again, though everyone had already gotten their breakfast, and were somewhere above him as far as he knew. Slowly, though gaining confidence, he stood up, creeping towards the door. He turned around, and took a couple more steps forward before bumping into the door. Except, it apparently wasn't the door- it was Ginny.

"And where do you think you're going?" The redhead demanded, standing several inches taller than Harry, with her hands on her hips authoritatively.

"Ginny! I-" Harry stammered, wracking his brain for a reasonable excuse as to why he, a prisoner really, was headed right for the front door alone. "Exploring?"

Surprisingly, the redhead didn't buy it. Something flashed in her eyes before she narrowed them at him, her mere gaze enough to make Harry take a few steps backward. She followed suit, all but pushing Harry towards the kitchen. "Get back in there, Potter," she muttered, and he obediently returned to his seat at the table. Clearly distrustful of him, Ginny followed, and sat herself on the edge of the counter to watch him. She kept her gaze on him, an unfocused sort of angry, but occasionally her eyes drifted away, towards the wallpaper or china cabinet, and Harry could get a proper look at her.

Upon closer examination, she was younger than Harry thought. Whereas he had first imagined she was at least a couple years his senior, he could now see that she couldn't be any older than him. She looked rather young, just in her face, but the way her eyes seemed foggy and indistinct, and the way her jaw set too tightly betrayed a wisdom- or at least experience- beyond her years.

Once more, Harry found himself staring at Ginny even after her gaze traveled back to him. "Oi," she said, snapping him back to reality with a single, sharp syllable.

From somewhere up above, Harry heard footsteps, getting louder as they came down the stairs. "Gin?" It was Hermione, who soon came bounding into the kitchen, her curly hair tied back and a small, beaded bag slung over her shoulder. She turned to rest her gaze on Harry, and walked over to grab him by the arm. Gently, he noted, but clearly not friendly. "Come on, then. We've got a lot to do today, no time to sit around like this," she quipped, leading Harry to the front door, where the rest of the company was waiting. Harry was transferred to Ron, who had a much tighter grip on his arm, but somehow seemed infinitely friendlier.

"Are we all ready, then?" Luna asked, who was carrying her own bag, and seemed to have some sort of sunglasses resting atop her head. She scanned over everyone in the party, resting a little longer on Harry- just long enough to give him a smile. Harry felt slightly reassured, only to remind himself that this ragtag group of teens had _kidnapped_ him. This was _illegal_ , and Harry had no one to even realize he was missing, let alone get help from.

Without warning, Ron clamped his free hands over Harry's eyes. He felt himself being pushed forward, towards the toward, Ron at his rear and someone- Draco, he assumed, from the height- in front. He felt cool, fresh air on his skin for the tiniest fraction of a second, before it felt damp again, moldy and musty just as the bedroom he stayed in had. Ron's hand was removed and came to rest on his shoulder, and as Harry's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he knew something was very wrong.

Rather than a busy London street as he had expected, he was in a pub, a medieval looking one no less. Flickering lanterns decorated the walls, and the furniture was all wood and stone. The room was empty except for himself and his traveling companions, and nothing but faint breezes and quiet breathing could be heard. Hermione stepped closer to Harry but made no contact, while Ron kept his grip still on his arm. Everyone seemed to focus on one spot ahead, a wooden door that creaked open ever so closely, ominously even.

Eventually, an old man stepped out, hair long and white and a beard tucked into his belt. "Well, you must be Harry Potter," he croaked, his voice warm and crackly as he regarded Harry, from behind his half-moon glasses.

Hermione responded before Harry could, "It's good to see you again, Albus."


	4. Chapter 4

_Ginny Weasley had started a diary. It was an old leather book, one she found scattered among her school things- a gift from her mother perhaps, or just something that had gotten thrown in with everything else. She had never kept one before, but with her first year only weeks away, now seemed a good a time as any._

 _In the months that followed, Ginny made friends with her diary- or rather, the man in her diary. He was nice to her, told her she was special and wonderful and everything an insecure young girl needed to hear. He made her feel wanted, not stuck in the shadow of six older brothers._

 _And just like that, Tom Riddle had her under his thumb. She was a naive, impressionable little girl that never stood a chance against some charming, older gentleman. She never did suspect a thing, either, he was her friend, he would never hurt her._

 _But then, things started getting fuzzy for her. She would wake up somewhere she didn't remember falling asleep, with little gaps missing. There were people getting petrified, threats made, and she couldn't remember anything about where she was when these things happened. This scared her- what if_ she _was the perpetrator, all without even knowing it? Naturally, his first act was to ask Tom about it._

" _My dear, you can't possibly be serious," Tom wrote, and while Ginny was unable to discern his tone she felt comforted nonetheless. "How could you do something you don't remember?"_

" _I don't know," was Ginny's reply, her quill hovering over the page uncertainly. Tom's neater writing began a reply, and she lifted her hand away to read it._

" _The professors will get to the bottom of it," he assured her, and she let that sink in as the words faded off the page. As her quill touched the page again, she suddenly shut the diary and walked straight out of her dorm with it, almost marching._

 _Ginny didn't know where she was going, but at the same time she was only vaguely aware and conscious, and not one bit in control of her body. After opening the Chamber of Secrets, Tom had made his presence in her mind clear._

 _More than anything, Ginny was terrified. She couldn't stop herself from going down there, not when that_ monster _had control over every ounce of her body, but her heart pounded against her chest with every step. By the time Tom had taken her to the statue of Slytherin himself, Ginny had exhausted herself trying to regain any semblance of control._

 _He finally showed himself, a mere ghost projecting himself through the diary that now lay at her feet. For a split second, Ginny had control, but it was too late. She had time to turn to Tom, and see the sickeningly sweet smile on his face, before she fell to the ground and hit her head on the cold stone, knocking her out._

 _Upon waking up, Ginny found herself in the hospital wing, a number of bouquets and cards on the table to her left, and Madame Pomfrey at her bedside. Ginny attempted to sit up, with little success as the older matron rushed around, making sure Ginny was comfortable._

" _You're finally awake, thank goodness," she said briskly, putting a hand to Ginny's forehead. She quickly summoned a glass bottle full of dark purple liquid, and held it up to Ginny's lips. It was thick and tasted sickly sweet, and she visibly winced, but swallowed nonetheless. "It will make you feel better, I promise," Pomfrey added, before rushing away to her office. Ginny slowly closed her eyes, just needing to rest a moment._

 _A few minutes later (or hours, as Ginny wasn't sure how long she'd closed her eyes for), Headmaster Dumbledore ambled in, and made his way to her bedside. "Miss Weasley," he nodded in greeting, a polite yet mysterious smile crossing crossing his features. "And how are you faring? That was quite a nasty accident you had," he remarked, as though all she'd experienced was a simple Quidditch injury._

" _I'm fine," Ginny croaked, her voice sounding weaker than she intended it to. "Wha… what happened to me?" She asked, feeling terribly small and insignificant next to Dumbledore._

" _Nothing to worry about, the situation is under control," Dumbledore replied nonchalantly as he pulled his hands out from behind his back to offer Ginny a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, as if something like candy could make up for her near-death._

" _I want to know," Ginny protested, sitting up and putting the box on the table next to her. "Last thing I remember I- I was in this weird… chamber, and this ghost, he-" her story was cut off as Dumbledore simply raised a hand._

 _Something flashed behind his eyes and he smiled knowingly, tapping the side of his nose twice. "All in good time, Miss Weasley." Before Ginny could get another word in, he added, "I will talk to you once you've recovered more." And with that, Dumbledore had left, leaving Ginny as confused as she was before._

 _A few weeks passed, and finally the school year had come to a close. And yet, Ginny hadn't received a single word from Dumbledore since their conversation in the infirmary. On the train, she cried from the minute they left the station, despite consolations from Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. None of them had experienced the nightmares she had, felt the same guilt and pain she did, and none of them were quite as in the dark as she was. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of her diary since waking up in the hospital wing, yet she still dreaded the idea of it turning up in her suitcase, or on her bed at home._

 _It never did come back, at least not physically. She didn't sleep well for weeks, she would wake up in a cold sweat in the early hours of the morning, her breaths shallow and her heart pounding. Tom constantly haunted her nightmares, making her terrified to even leave the house without one of her older brothers accompanying her._

 _Yet slowly, things started to get better. By the time she started her second year, she could hold her brothers' hands a little looser, and felt alright sitting with her friends on the train. Still, the events of the past year lingered in her mind, as she wanted answers and perhaps a solution to the nightmares._

 _By October, Ginny still hadn't received so much as a single word from Dumbledore, and she was getting impatient. Eventually, she worked up enough courage to go visit his office, even if she did have to drag Percy with her to wait outside. Timidly, she went up the stairs and approached the Headmaster, who was sitting behind his desk._

" _Miss Weasley, a surprise to see you here," he commented, casual as ever as he glanced at her over his half-moon glasses. He offered her a seat, which she took, but she was clearly uncomfortable in it._

" _Headmaster Dumbledore," she began, taking a second to still her shaking voice, and hands. "What happened to me last year? I know something was wro-"_

" _Ah, yes. I knew you'd still wonder about that," Dumbledore replied, and sat back in his chair as if preparing for a story. "You fell victim to a… curse, old magic that I was unaware of. You can rest assured that the situation is under control."_

" _Headmaster, people nearly died! Was that… was that really my fault?" Ginny frowned, wringing her hands in her lap. Hermione Granger and Justin Finch-Fletchley, not to mention Mrs. Norris, was she really capable of hurting them like that? She was just a little girl, but Tom had been much more powerful. What had he done to her?_

 _Dumbledore simply waved away her concerns and ignored her protestations, and before long she was dismissed from his office. Now angry on top of scared, she clung to Percy's arm as he escorted her back to the common room._

 _There she found Ron, and too late realized that the girl he was sitting next to was Hermione herself, the very girl Ginny felt she had almost killed. Eyes cast downward, Ginny seated herself on the other side of Ron, leaning on her brother's arm._

" _Ginny, is it?" Hermione asked, her tone gentle, which surprised Ginny. The redhead glanced up and nodded once, a small smile pulling at her lips. Clearly Hermione didn't blame her, if she even knew what had happened at all. "It's nice to meet you."_

 _The rest of the year seemed better for Ginny, if only barely. She had found a new friend in the form of Hermione, and with her old friends Luna and Neville and her brothers, she could get through the next few months. The longer she waited for an answer from Dumbledore, the more anger and bitterness welled up inside of her. By the time June had rolled around, she was exhausted by her attempts to contact Dumbledore, and even more so from getting shot down each time._

 _As the last few weeks of school approached, she felt as though she was being patronized, treated like a fragile little doll who couldn't possibly understand the situation. Ginny hated it- she may not have been an adult but she couldn't imagine the truth being any scarier than her nightmares._

 _Even so, she never got answers, or definitive ones at least. Dumbledore, and anyone else in power, all seemed to dodge her questions with uncertainties and vague answers. Ginny couldn't help but feel bitter, all her resentment building and stewing without ever coming to a boil._

 _And then,_ he _came back. Tom, Voldemort as he had called himself, was back, and real, and her nightmares were worse than ever. No one knew how- and anyone who did didn't want to admit it. He was worse than Ginny had remembered, not the same charming young man but a terrifying monster. It wasn't long before people started disappearing, or worse._

 _Ginny constantly watched her back, afraid that Tom- no, Voldemort- would come after the weak, naive little girl he had once preyed upon. Naive, she may not have been anymore, but at fourteen she was still young and impressionable._

 _The best she could do was not be so weak. To her, strength equated coldness, barriers put up so no one else could get to her. She closed up, put walls around her, losing her vivacious charm. Her eyes lost their bright, intelligent gleam and she quieted down; not afraid so much as she was guarded, worried that those who tried to get in would hurt her again._

 _Her friends noticed a change, surely, but she stayed optimistic around them as best she could. The older they got, the harder this was until two years later, when they all proposed to go look for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. No one questioned Hermione as the leader, and having Neville, Luna and Ron stood by them was never doubted. But, as Draco Malfoy volunteered, Ginny was the first to object._

" _He's one of them, how can we let him right at the core of our plans without so much as a second word?" Ginny protested, looking at her friends in disbelief._

" _He says he wants to help, he can help us get information on You-Know-Who," Hermione said. "And I, for one, believe him."_

" _How can you?" Ginny cried shrilly. "This is the boy who called you a mudblood, whose father nearly tried to get me_ killed _if you'll remember."_

 _Hermione somehow kept her cool, which only angered Ginny more. "And people change, Draco's not his father. If he wants to help, we ought to let him. Merlin knows we need all the help we can get."_

" _Not from him!" She shouted, her voice high and tense. Malfoy scared her, he wasn't quite threatening but he was foreign, and foreign meant bad to her. "Let me know when you've finally found some sense," Ginny huffed, turning her back on her friends and leaving._

 _It was three months before Ginny decided to talk to them again. By then, they'd left to go find Harry, so she picked up and went after them. She was sure her parents and older brothers were worried sick, but they had to understand. She couldn't stand by, not when her friends were out there and she didn't know whether they were alive or dead. The most she could do was leave a brief note, vague but reassuring, that they would be back as soon as they could._

 _It took Ginny two weeks to track them down, and in just fourteen days she found herself aching for a proper meal and a proper bed. She found their hideout: 12 Grimmauld Place, the former Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, before most of the members dispersed. It proved a challenge to get in, but she approached Luna as she stepped outside, and the blonde girl brought her to the rest of them._

 _The reunion was a bittersweet occasion. Hermione, despite all her graces, was reluctant to welcome Ginny back. Draco, well, he was indifferent to her, though Luna and Neville were glad to have her company. Ron, on the other hand, was fuming._

" _How dare you put yourself on the line like this! You could die, or worse!" Ron chided, but his voice betrayed a bit of relief._

" _And let you face the same fate? If I go down, at least it'll be doing something worthwhile," Ginny retorted._

 _Their back and forth didn't last long, and it was only a matter of minutes before the siblings were embracing each other._

" _I love you, Ginny."_

" _I love you too, Ron."_

A/N: Yes, I'm aware this is insanely long compared to my other chapters. You can expect this flashback chapters to be a little longer since there's so much to cover for everyone. And sorry for taking so long to update!


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